“Oh, never mind what you don’t see,” interrupted Arnold gayly. “You got it. That’s enough, isn’t it? Come on over and chin awhile.” “What time is it? I can’t. I’ve got English at nine. But, gee, I won’t know a thing, I guess!” “All right, then, I’ll see you at eleven. I’m awfully glad, Toby. You deserved it, too. Every one says that. Lots of fellows were as pleased as anything when Doc announced your name. I guess you got as much clapping as any of them!” “Did I?” asked Toby in surprise. “Why, I didn’t suppose many fellows knew anything about me! I guess――I guess you’re just jollying!” “Honest, I’m not! Lots of fellows around where I was sitting nearly clapped their old hands off for you, and four or five said afterwards that they were mighty glad you’d copped it. So long! Come up to the room at eleven, eh?” Toby nodded and turned back toward the entrance to Oxford. It seemed strange, even incredible, that any one should have cared whether he won that scholarship. But it was mighty nice. It made things even better. He hadn’t supposed that he had any friends in school beside Arnold and, perhaps, a couple of chaps in his own class who had been more or less chummy at times. Well, he would just have to show them and Doctor Collins and――and every one that he really deserved it. He would study as hard as anything and maybe――well, it was only a chance, but _maybe_, he’d finish in June an Honor Man! Rather a stupendous dream, that, but Toby was feeling stupendous this morning! CHAPTER IX T. TUCKER PLAYS GOAL